Beyond Physical

by D Pichardo-Johansson

  Joy’s sister hadn’t come out of the guestroom even once, and he was relieved not to have to split his attention. He’d forgotten how exhausting small kids could be: tirelessly running all over the house, finding sharp objects, putting toys in the toilet, trying to drink the hand sanitizer, jumping so high on the bed they were at risk of hitting the ceiling fan with their heads. Ray had been so shocked and disgusted at his first experience changing a dirty diaper that Richard feared he would quit as his assistant.

  As he finished cleaning yet another juice spill from the family room floor, he heard a loud scream coming from the kitchen.

  He rushed there and found Arthur howling.

  “What happened, Arthur?”

  “Edward bit me! Waaaa!”

  “Let me see.” The boy wasn’t kidding. There was a perfect circle of red baby teeth impressions in his arm.

  “You’ll be okay, Arthur. There’s no bleeding.”

  “Are you sure, Mr. Feilds?”

  “I’m sure. Go wash it up with some soap and water.”

  Still wailing and sobbing, Arthur left. Edward kicked and screamed in his highchair. In the background, they could hear Alex also crying in his room.

  Richard turned to Ray, who was covering his ears, disturbed. “Ray, are you okay?”

  “This is too much, Dad. The twins screaming, Arthur calling me ‘hey-dude-wassup’ a hundred times a minute! I can’t do this for two more hours!”

  “We can do this, Ray. Help me take Edward to the family room, and maybe we can calm him and Alex down with some more TV.”

  “I can’t watch Barney one more time or I’ll go crazy, Dad.”

  “We’ll find something else. Come on.”

  A toy car blocked the way in front of the high chair. Ray bent down to pick it up, and he got hit on the mouth by one of Edward’s kicks.

  Ray screamed in pain. “Dad, I’m bleeding!”

  Richard rushed to see him. The lip was getting swollen, and there was a bleeding small cut on it. Richard made Ray sit at the kitchen counter and had him put pressure on the cut with a paper towel while he put ice in a Ziploc bag.

  “This will make you feel better.” As he gently applied the ice to Ray’s mouth, he noticed the boy was about to cry.

  “This is it, Dad. I can’t do this anymore!” Richard stroked his back. Ray’s voice was shaky. “These kids are terrible. Please tell me I wasn’t like that when I was little! That noisy . . . that stinky?”

  Richard smiled. “I’m afraid you were every bit as terrible and, yes, that stinky!”

  Ray’s stunned expression made Richard want to laugh. He leaned down to hug him. “I’m sorry, Ray. I forgot this is harder for you than it was for me, because you never had younger siblings.”

  Shaking his head, Ray said, “If we had decent toys we could use them to keep them busy. But this house is pathetic! No basketball basket, no football, no bats or baseball gloves, no guns! What’s wrong with these kids’ dad?”

  “Ray, Joy’s husband died.”

  “What?” Ray came out of Richard’s arms and gaped at him.

  “I never told you?”

  “No! I assumed Joy was divorced, like Mom and you are . . . that’s terrible!” Forgetting about his swollen lip, Ray put down the ice. “How old was Arthur when his dad died?”

  “About four.”

  “Wow. That’s younger than the age I was when you moved out of the house. And the babies must have been just months old! Poor little kids!”

  Richard was moved by the compassion his son showed. He realized he still had many things to teach him beyond fishing and playing sports.

  “You’re such a kind spirit, son. What you said reminded me of what a good friend told me once. That we should never judge anybody until we’ve gotten to know them and understand their circumstances.”

  At that moment, Edward screamed so loudly they had to cover their ears.

  Richard remembered something. “That same friend also says that the energy around us changes according to how we feel and that we can affect each other’s energy. I have a theory: The babies are feeling our tension. If we want them to relax and go to sleep, we need to start by chilling out ourselves.”

  “How can we chill out with all this noise?”

  Getting an idea, Richard got up from his seat with new enthusiasm.

  “Let’s get out of the house. Go get Arthur, and I’ll start putting the twins in the van.”

  * * *

  Richard was in the kitchen, putting away dishes, when Joy arrived. He welcomed her with a smile. “Hey! How did the meeting go?”

  “Good! Where are the twins?”

  “They’re asleep.”

  She looked surprised. “Was it hard to put them down?”

  “At first it was. But then we went for a ride in the van, and they fell asleep on the way back. Your sister never came out.”

  “Where are Arthur and Ray?”

  He put away the last of the glasses. “The last time I checked, they’d fallen asleep watching a movie in Arthur’s room.”

  The shock on her face was almost hilarious. Chuckling, he couldn’t help teasing her. “You didn’t think I was going to be able to handle them, did you.”

  Shaking her head, she chuckled too. “I was pretty sure I’d never see you again after tonight.”

  Her eyes spoke a thousand silent words. The memory of the conversation he’d heard between Joy and her sister returned to him—her doubt that any man in the world would ever accept the package of those three kids.

  Leaning forward, he put his hand on her shoulder and sustained her gaze. “Maybe I’m not that easy to scare away.”

  She blinked rapidly.

  Removing his hand, he cleared his throat. “But you didn’t finish telling me about the meeting! What happened?”

  She grinned. “They agreed to meet us in the middle for what I requested. Between that and the fundraising Lena’s family is doing, we should be able to survive.”

  Richard clapped and hooted.

  “We did it!” she cheered. He joined her enthusiasm by lifting her in his arms, carrying her out of the kitchen, and spinning her around the family room, both of them laughing.

  They were both breathing heavily when he put her down. Still holding her in his arms, their eyes met, and he froze. She was looking at him with parted lips, without moving. The scene was perfect—the dim lights, the intimacy of the family room, the euphoria. The moment begged for a kiss. And, God, he so wanted to kiss her!

  Wasn’t it only natural that this character he was playing, crazy for her, would seize the moment? Hadn’t he needed to accept a drink or fake taking a hit from a drug when working undercover, to avoid raising suspicion?

  He was still debating the dilemma when, unexpectedly, she held his face with her hands and kissed him.

  Taken by surprise, he lost his balance and fell backwards onto the couch, dragging her with him. She barely let go of his mouth for the moment she fell on top of him before capturing it again.

  Every thread of restraint he’d been holding on to vanished. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her too. Desperate. Exhilarated. Feeling like a survivor who’d crossed the desert and just found a drinking fountain.

  He was breathless when she broke the kiss. She showed no hurry to get off him. He cautiously asked, “Joy, did they give you any alcohol at the meeting?”

  Laughing softly, she shook her head.

  “I’m afraid of breaking the spell by asking what that was about.”

  Her voice was almost a whisper. “You must have figured out by now that I’m . . . a little traumatized. I know I haven’t been coherent with my signals. You have no idea of how thankful I am for your patience.”

  He held his breath. A jolt of joy and hope quickly mutated into fear and caution. But then she was kissing him again, and his ability to think was gone.

  As their mouths became more and more daring, deepening the kisses, he knew he was doomed. It didn’t matter anymor
e if he was risking disciplinary action or even his career. He wanted her. He couldn’t wait until the case was over. He needed to have her. And soon.

  Breaking the kiss and getting up from the couch, and off him, she said, “I feel that with all that’s going on I’ve neglected my kids lately. I imagine Ray and you have things to catch up with, too, over the long weekend. But maybe I’ll see you on Tuesday?”

  Arthur and Ray stormed in the room, engaged in an energetic battle with two light sabers and beaming in excitement.

  Richard shushed them, “Guys, guys! Keep it down; the twins are sleeping.”

  Arthur came to greet Joy. “Mom, you’re back!”

  Joy hugged him. “Hello, sweetie, how was your night?”

  “It was awesome! Ray and I watched part of a baseball game and played video games. And then we went to this big store, and Richard and Ray taught me how to play basketball. And they got me a light saber. It was the best night ever!”

  Joy blinked rapidly. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetie. Now, you’re past your bedtime. Go brush your teeth.”

  Beaming with excitement, Arthur ran to the bathroom. Joy turned to Ray. “Ray, I can’t thank you enough. I know you probably had better things to do tonight.”

  “You’re welcome, Joy. It was hard, but Arthur and I had a great time.” He paused. “But OMG! I had no idea babies were so painful! No offense, Joy, your twins are cute, but they’re a pain in the neck!”

  Joy laughed. She passed her arm over Ray’s shoulders and walked some steps with him, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I’m not supposed to reveal the secrets of my gender, Ray. But do you know what? We girls melt away for men who are good with kids. I’m sure, Ray, that the girls in your school are going to find your stories about tonight adorable.”

  The boy was delighted.

  Coming from the bathroom, Arthur rushed in and made a beeline for Ray. “My teeth are clean, dude. Come and put me to bed.”

  Ray gasped. “Why me?”

  “You’re my babysitter tonight. Come on! I’ll let you borrow my Spiderman.”

  In spite of his eye-roll, Ray was smiling when he followed Arthur into his room.

  Joy seemed perplexed. “What kind of intense therapy did you use on him? He didn’t even ask me for a goodnight kiss! And he’s sharing his Spiderman toy?”

  Richard pulled her by the arm, fearing that the moment the boys had interrupted would slip away. “Can I pick you up after work for dinner on Tuesday?”

  He couldn’t believe his ears when he heard her answer, “Deal. See you then.”

  Still fearing he was dreaming, Richard kissed her one more time.

  Ray entered the room, making them rush to break the embrace.

  “Okay,” he said, dragging his backpack behind him. “Arthur’s in bed, and I’m exhausted. Let’s go home.”

  “Home?” Richard asked. “I thought I was driving you to a party.”

  Ray’s eyes lit up. He jumped up and down, all the fatigue disappearing from his face. “You’re right! I almost forgot! Let’s go. Let’s go.”

  Ray put on his backpack, and they left in a hurry with quick goodbyes.

  Once in the car, driving, Ray confessed, “Dad! I saw you guys! You made it to first base! High five!”

  Richard laughed, feeling shy as he smacked his lifted hand. Talking like that with his son felt strange. “I guess in the past I would’ve said it was too much work for first base, but I’m happy.” He wasn’t kidding. For him, it may have been a small step; but for her, it was a huge leap.

  “So that means my hard work paid off!”

  “Yes, Ray. All your hard work paid off.”

  The expression of satisfaction on Ray’s face was priceless.

  When they arrived at Ethan’s house, Ray checked his hair in the mirror. “I hope I don’t smell like poop.”

  “No, you don’t. Go, son. Have a good time.”

  Ray opened the door to get out of the car, but then he turned back and hugged Richard.

  Richard was blown away. He couldn’t remember the last time his son had returned one of his hugs, let alone hugged him spontaneously. He heard Ray’s voice saying, “Dad, I’m glad that mom’s divorced and not a widow like Joy is. I can’t imagine what my childhood would’ve been without you there. I also never knew I’d been such hard work. Thank you for putting up with all my tantrums and stinky diapers.”

  Feeling close to tears, he hugged Ray against his chest. He knew this was a moment he’d treasure in his heart forever.

  As abruptly as the hug had started, it ended. Jumping out of the car, Ray ran to the house. Richard’s eyes followed him until he entered, disappearing from his sight.

  He stayed in the car for a long time, putting his mind in order. His body felt exhausted, but he felt deep peace inside him. What started as an act of random kindness, without any plans to obtain a reward for it, had ended up surprising him in so many pleasant ways.

  Bringing him back, his official cell phone—which he’d kept in the car—rang. “Richard, it’s Samuel. I’ve been calling you all day. You’re not going to believe this.”

  Richard had completely forgotten about the interrogation going on that day. “What happened?”

  “Samantha McKinney is under detention. She confessed to having killed Michael O’Hara. She says that her real name is . . . Rachel Hayes.”

  Chapter 31

  Richard sat in front of Samantha McKinney in the jail’s contact visiting room. She had declined to have a lawyer present during the interview. There was no sign of fear in her face.

  He was still trying to assimilate the information he’d heard so far. The woman claimed to be Rachel Hayes and that she faked her own death. She claimed she had inherited a new identity from the real Samantha McKinney—one of her disciples and the body lying in her grave. Hayes had been vague; but from what Richard gathered, Samantha had been diagnosed with a brain tumor in New York City and had decided to commit suicide.

  After a silence, Richard said, “So you helped her kill herself?”

  She smiled faintly. “Nobody can kill anybody. The soul is indestructible. I prefer to say that we freed her from her body.”

  When Richard didn’t answer, she said, “The only relative I had left was my daughter, who agreed to cooperate. Samantha didn’t have children or living relatives. She came over to my apartment and put on my work clothes with my wallet and ID in her pockets. After she was . . . gone, I left the building, knowing the new cleaning lady would find the body and call nine-one-one. Nobody questioned the body was mine after my own daughter identified it.”

  Richard looked at her intently. “How did Samantha kill herself so the paramedics and the pathologist performing her autopsy would buy that it had been a heart attack?”

  She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “That’s irrelevant.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he asked, “Was it the same way the four politicians were killed?”

  Instead of answering, she continued, “From the apartment, I went straight to a discrete plastic surgeon who re-did my face and body to look more like Samantha. She’d been blessed with an appearance more beautiful than I ever had as Rachel. As soon as I recovered enough, I joined Michael O’Hara’s campaign as his PR representative.”

  It was quiet as Richard prepared for the next line of questioning. “Why did you kill him? What was your motive?”

  She sighed. “We, the Supreme Masters—the leaders of the Lords of the Universe­­—were determined to catapult the world to enlightenment, starting with this country. We believed we were doing the world a service. Can you imagine the progress for the planet? A whole new generation trained since childhood in mastering their unlimited power to achieve anything imaginable. We had it all figured out. We had arrogance; we had a plan . . . All we needed was to get to the positions of power, to the world of politics.”

  Richard nodded.

  “I was stupid enough to think I knew everything necessary to change the world, but I
was smart enough to realize that nobody would vote for me, or for Samantha McKinney, for anything. I needed a face—a good looking, charismatic one with a clean record. Somebody I could sell to this country as president. But before that, I had to start somewhere. I had to make him at least a congressman.”

  “Michael O’Hara.” Richard’s voice was cold.

  She assented. “We met at one of Carl’s meetings and had instant chemistry, so we’d kept in touch ever since. He joined the Florida division of the Lords of the Universe when the group split from Carl’s. We, the Supreme Masters, knew that, with our powers and his 1950s, clean-guy look, he could get far. Once he was elected president, I expected him to be my instrument to put my plan in motion, by changing the infrastructure of the educational and political systems.”

  “How about the other three: Flowers, Adams, and Hall?”

  “They were different versions of the same plan, assigned to other Supreme Masters while Michael was my assignment. But I saw them as backup plans. I felt Michael O’Hara was the most promising of all. That’s why I came to Florida after my change of identity.

  “I knew it was going to take us about six to eight more years to have him ready to win a presidential election, but it was a process I was ready to enjoy while we raised the money for our plans from the commercialization of our teachings.”

  “Commercialization?” asked Richard, frowning. “We didn’t find any book about your teachings.”

  She snickered. “You live in a different dimension than we do. They’re everywhere—in every online and physical bookstore under ‘self-improvement’ and ‘New Age.’ They’re by different authors with different titles in e-Book, print, audio-book, DVD courses . . . It’s a multimillion-dollar industry.”

  Richard got chills, thinking about all the people having access to the knowledge that Carl had refused to give to him—knowledge that could be dangerous in the wrong hands.

  Richard pondered. Something doesn’t make sense. Her out of the blue confession and sudden openness to talk made him suspect she was protecting someone else.

  “Why the change of plans? he asked. “Why did you decide to kill the four politicians?”